


touch me and i come alive

by softambrollins



Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Crack, Depression, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Double Penetration, Enemies to Lovers, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Invasion of Privacy, Loneliness, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Objectification, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Break Up, Rimming, Seduction, Sex Doll, Sex Toys, Spanking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Verbal Humiliation, Vibrators, Violent Thoughts, violence to inanimate objects only
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softambrollins/pseuds/softambrollins
Summary: "Oh, that's just a friend," he says absently, like he's just forgotten to introduce them. "Scumbag, meet Scumbag The Second." He gestures from Seth standing in front of him in the flesh to the doll lying next to him under the covers. The unclothed sex doll that looks like a pretty realistic approximation of Seth Rollins, Mr. Money in the Bank and Dean's former best friend and current mortal enemy."Oh my god, you're a fucking pervert," Seth bursts out, laughing hysterically, one hand covering his mouth like a stupid kid who's just discovered skin mags for the first time. He sounds almost delighted by this bizarre turn of events though. Like he came here expecting Dean's life to be a three-ring circus and he's not disappointed. He almost can't blame him. Dean has to find his jollies wherever he can get them so he doesn't just drive off a fucking cliff and end it all. Maybe he's a fucking pathetic freak but none of this is his fault and no one knows that better than Seth.Seth discovers that Dean has a lifelike sex doll of him that he uses to take out all his frustrations (of every kind) on following his betrayal and he's curious about what exactly that entails. Dean's happy to show him.
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Seth Rollins | Tyler Black
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	touch me and i come alive

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Dean stole Seth's MITB briefcase in September 2014.
> 
> Inspired by [Dean touching that dummy of Seth in a weirdly sensual way](https://twitter.com/softambrollins/status/1293274957741514754) and obviously by the implication of Seth having a vibrator in his briefcase. This is by far the dirtiest thing I've ever written and I'm not sorry.

Dean's abruptly jerked wide awake out of a deep sleep with a sharp gasp to what sounds like the door of his hotel room being blasted off of its hinges. But the door's still there, although it appears to be shaking within its frame, suggesting that he's not imagining it. He hears a string of frustrated, incoherent swearing coming from the other side and then the door is rocked by a sudden force again, this time accompanied by a heavy grunt of exertion like someone's driving their shoulder into the wood with all the strength they possess. And then there are a few moments of charged silence, like a countdown, like a deep inhale before the storm, before it's finally kicked wide open — 

Revealing the unmistakable figure of Seth Rollins looming in his doorway. He sweeps his hair out of his face dramatically like some kind of action hero (although he's obviously the farthest thing from it) as he steps inside. 

Dean just sits up but doesn't bother to get out of bed, looking up at him casually, squinting against the intrusion of light streaming in from the corridor, like this is a totally normal occurrence. 

"What do you want, man?" he drawls. The back of his throat still burns faintly and his head feels fucking terrible. Maybe he went a bit too hard on the whiskey last night, but the hangover's always worth it to be dead to the world for a couple hours at least. It's better than the alternative. He definitely bargained on a few more than this, though. But he's not even gonna waste his anger on Seth right now, not over something as insignificant as being unexpectedly woken up. He's hardly even worth Dean's wrath anymore; riling him up is almost more fun these days than trying to rip him apart limb from limb. But Seth doesn't seem to have the same reservations.

"I want my property back, you asshole," he says, his body tense with barely contained fury, teeth gritted, a muscle twitching violently in his jaw.

His voice is hoarse like he's just woken up himself or knowing Seth, he's probably just spent too long screaming at him from the other side of the door with no response until he decided to take matters into his own hands. 

"Seriously? That's why you smashed my door down? Because I wasn't giving you enough _attention_? You know breaking and entering is a crime, right?" he says with a cocked eyebrow. Pretending to not care about Seth is probably pretty useless by now but it's still the one foolproof way to make him fucking _livid_. And that's practically the only reason Dean's still alive.

"No one's gonna arrest me. No one's gonna bother us. Trust me," he says with that air of eminent smugness that makes Dean want to peel his face off, slowly, bit by bit. And maybe his anger isn't quite lost yet after all. Seth really has a gift for bringing it right back to the surface, simply by existing. "And I was outside yelling for you to open the fucking door for _thirty minutes_."

Yep, assumption proven correct. Seth's so predictable, it's almost tragic. The kicking down the door part he didn't quite expect though, so he'll grudgingly give him credit for that. Maybe he's not as boring as he thought after all. Maybe he's been devising his own creative ways to keep this interesting. He'll never admit it to his face though.

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that, man. Took a couple pills last night. Washed them down with a fifth of Jack. Would take an earthquake to wake me up. Or a bomb. Evidently," he says, eyes drifting to his now useless door.

Seth just groans in exasperation and turns the lights on. He lets his gaze roam around the room for a few moments, looking for the stolen briefcase, but before he can spot it, his eyes drop to the bed instead and an almost horrified expression falls over his face all at once. Like he's seen a ghost. 

"What the fuck is that?" he says hollowly, stopping in his tracks, not blinking, not breathing.

"What?" Dean says, looking around stupidly, wondering if his dick is hanging out, which doesn't seem like something to be that alarmed about. And oh — 

"Next to you. In your bed," he says tonelessly, words clipped.

And oh. _Shit._ He almost completely forgot about it. Fucking Seth and his singular ability to completely distract him from the rest of the world. He should've known that someone would discover his dirty, little secret sooner or later. But he definitely did not want it to be Seth and definitely not Iike this. Or maybe it might be more fun this way, now that he thinks about it. Any further chance to unnerve Seth and strip away that calm, composed exterior that's both so aggravating and so painfully unconvincing is always welcome. Even if it's potentially embarrassing for himself. He doesn't really give a shit what Seth or anyone else thinks of him anyway. That's the real difference between them. Seth cares too much about his precious image; that's probably why he's so eager to retrieve his _intimately_ personal belongings. Dean has no problem tearing his own image or Seth's to shreds on live TV just because he feels like it. Oh, and also Dean's not a selfish, lying, backstabbing piece of shit.

"Oh, that's just a friend," he says absently, like he's just forgotten to introduce them. "Scumbag, meet Scumbag The Second." He gestures from Seth standing in front of him in the flesh to the doll lying next to him under the covers. The unclothed sex doll that looks like a pretty realistic approximation of Seth Rollins, Mr. Money in the Bank and Dean's former best friend and current mortal enemy.

"Oh my god, you're a fucking pervert," Seth bursts out, laughing hysterically, one hand covering his mouth like a stupid kid who's just discovered skin mags for the first time. He sounds almost delighted by this bizarre turn of events though. Like he came here expecting Dean's life to be a three-ring circus and he's not disappointed. He almost can't blame him. Dean has to find his jollies wherever he can get them so he doesn't just drive off a fucking cliff and end it all. Maybe he's a fucking pathetic freak but none of this is his fault and no one knows that better than Seth.

"It's not a fucking dead body, Seth. It's a _sex toy_. When did you become such a prude, man? You're no fun anymore, you know. It's a real shame. And anyway, you're the one who has a fucking dildo in the briefcase you take to _work_ , you goddamn hypocrite," he says, pointing over at the briefcase lying flat on the floor next to the wall on the other side of the room.

But Seth couldn't seem less interested by that now.

"No one was supposed to ever know about that," he says pointedly. "How the fuck do you hide a _sex doll_? _Why_ do you have a sex doll? And why does it look like _me_?" He almost sounds fascinated and intrigued despite himself, which is a reaction he did not expect but he's not gonna let it get away without using it to his full advantage either.

"Well, you're not here anymore so…" He trails off quietly, averting his gaze away from Seth for a moment. And he's not sure if he meant to say that out loud or not, but it has an effect on Seth he was going for either way.

Seth just stares at him, wide-eyed and stricken. 

"I mean," Dean clarifies calmly, "you're not always there to take my shit out on, because you're a slimy bitch. So I had to find a suitable substitute. You should be thankful, honestly. I should've sent you the bill. He gets the worst of it." He's not technically lying but he's also not telling the whole truth, and Seth definitely knows it. He waits for him to call him out on it.

Seth just narrows his eyes again at the human-shaped figure but it's more curiosity than disgust this time. 

The resemblance is pretty uncanny now that he can compare it to the real thing. The big, bright doe eyes and the large, hook-like nose. The cheekbones and jaw and beard are spot-on. The stupid hair feels just like Seth's, soft and thick but with a hint of the grease that probably just pours from every pore in his smarmy body. It even has his infuriatingly perfect abs which he doesn't know if he should hate or not, but that probably sums up this entire situation. It didn't feel right to change any part of him even if the sole purpose of the doll is for humiliation and punishment.

The only real difference is that Seth himself looks perfectly pristine and untouched as opposed to the doll, which is a wreck. Patches of its two-toned hair have been ripped out at the scalp. There are deep gouges in its face from a screwdriver or a knife or various other kinds of sharp implements. There are fingernail scratches and bite marks on its neck. Cigarette burn marks riddle its chest and limbs. The genitals are largely unscathed (it just isn't the same as fantasising about actually punching Seth in the junk over and over again when he can actually feel it) but there are marks where he'd whipped its ass with a belt a couple dozen times when he'd really needed to blow off some steam.

He thought it was pretty apt that _this_ Seth was just as cold and remote and inhuman as the real one had become. Maybe there was even more warmth in its glassy eyes than Seth's dead, black stare that haunts his dreams. It's like there was nothing behind it anymore. Like he'd killed everything that made him a real person to turn himself into a machine. Like that somehow made him better, stronger. Dean wishes he could do that sometimes, kill the part of him that _feels_ , but he's never been able to. Maybe that's his problem. Maybe that's why hurting Seth is the only thing that gives him temporary relief.

"So...that's all you do to it? That's what you got a sex doll for?" Seth says, folding his arms across his chest, standing up straighter, taller, his chin raised, like it's easier to judge from up there. Typical Seth, trying to act detached and like he's above it all. Above Dean and his base pleasures, his animalistic nature. Dean knows better, has always known better.

"What are you, disappointed?" he says flatly, clearly baiting him now.

"You're an asshole," Seth tells him dismissively. "And also a psychopath." 

"And what are you then, princess?" Dean counters with a sweet smile.

"At least I don't have lifesize sex dolls of my enemies just hanging around on a typical Monday morning…" Seth says, and he sounds a bit more rattled now.

"Oh, yeah?" Dean bites out, knowing he has him right where he wants him. "So who do _you_ think about when that dildo's buried in your —"

"Shut the fuck up," Seth stutters out and he looks highly discomfited now so he hit his mark right on target.

Dean laughs, a warm, satisfied feeling falling over him. But he's not done yet. "You know, it's a miracle it can even fit considering how much of a tightass you've become, man. How many buckets of lube do you need to get it all the way in?"

"Fuck off," Seth says, but it's weak now and there's a faint pink flush crawling up his neck into his cheeks. He turns his gaze away like he physically can't look Dean in the eyes anymore, his entire body flinching away from him at his words. And he knows he's done his job.

"Well, go ahead then," Dean tells him bluntly after a heavy moment of silence, like he's letting him off the hook. "Take it and leave. That's what you came here for, right?" 

Seth looks from the briefcase on the floor back to Dean. But he doesn't move to go pick it up. He doesn't move at all.

Dean finally gets out of bed now, the sheets sliding off of him to reveal his bare body.

He walks around the bed to stand right in front of Seth. He locks eyes with him and he sees Seth swallow hard like he's anxious or waiting for something to happen. Something he doesn't know if he wants yet. But he doesn't move away again and that's all Dean needs.

"Or maybe you wanna stick around and see if I can fuck you as good as your fancy vibrator," Dean tells him, voice deep and gravelly.

He lets out a breath and gently wraps his fingers around his own length, rubs his thumb over the head in easy circles, keeping his eyes fixed on Seth's face. He's getting hard just from Seth watching him. Maybe even from just knowing that Seth's deeply affected by this, by _him_ , against all his better judgement and reason. Because as hard as he tries, this is the one thing he can't hide from. Because his body gives him away in a million different ways. Seth wants to be above normal human desires and weaknesses, but he's just as much a slave to his carnal instincts as Dean is. The playing field's level. It's not hunter and prey, not traitor and betrayed. Just two men. Two bodies full of lust and sin and always caught in each other's inexorable gravity, whether they want to tear each other apart or eat each other alive.

Seth shakes his head and finally takes a small step back. "Stop fucking with me," he says, voice strained and thin, but the way he can't tear his gaze away from Dean's body and the way his pupils dilate and his lips fall open involuntary say otherwise. 

"Maybe I'm not," Dean tells him firmly and he can still feel the heat between them even when Seth's an arm's length away.

"Why the fuck would you want to? You _hate_ me," Seth says, like it's a fact. It strikes him as odd that he didn't add, _And I hate you._

Dean doesn't deny it. "Maybe I'm just tired of cold, unfeeling latex and silicone," he says with a slight shrug.

"You could always fuck someone else?" Seth suggests.

"Maybe I don't want to," Dean admits. And part of Seth at least had to already know that. Maybe none of this would've happened if that wasn't the truth. Maybe they could both just move on. But it's never been a choice. So now they're just living half a life. Stuck in this torturous purgatory. Together. 

Seth just stays there for a while, like he's considering something, and then he closes his eyes for a moment and moves back closer to Dean, like he's been drawn in by some invisible magnetic force. 

"That's fucked-up, you know. That you still want me after everything," he tells him, little more than a murmur, and it almost feels intimate.

"Yeah, and so do you," Dean says, slowly reaching out and touching his other hand to the centre of Seth's chest, feeling his uneven heartbeat under his palm. He gradually moves it lower and to the side, tracing his fingers over his ribs through the thin cotton of his shirt, gently digging them into his skin.

He feels Seth shiver bodily under his touch and he leans into it unconsciously, like his body's out of his control, like it hasn't been touched like this in years by someone warm and alive and it's all he wants.

"This is some kind of trick," he says, looking back at him, like part of him is hoping it is. But his eyes are truly clear and open for the first time.

"Do I look like the kind to play games?" Dean asks.

Seth raises his eyebrows skeptically at that.

"Okay, fine, that's fair," he acknowledges. "But whatever I am, I'm not a liar. Not like you. And how can it be a trick when _you're_ the one who broke into my room like a fucking lunatic? You're the one in control here. I didn't plan any of this. Because again, I'm not _you_." And maybe Seth's the one with the silver tongue but Dean knows about manipulation too. Except he's not sure now if that's what this is. Maybe it started that way before Dean touched him. Maybe it's better to convince himself that's all he's doing. That he's trying to catch Seth off guard again and revel in bringing down the facade, knowing he can still exploit his weak spots, his inconvenient _feelings_. Even if all it does is hurt even more.

"Why should I believe you?" Seth breathes out and it feels like a plea, like he's begging for something he doesn't know how to ask for, something he doesn't trust, has never trusted, and maybe that's what got them into this mess in the first place. But this doesn't have to be that. This could just be — what it is. They need something from each other they can't get anywhere else, and definitely not from piss-poor, state of the art artificial devices that might be way simpler to justify to themselves.

"Because you want it too," Dean tells him, hand drifting down over his stomach and heading between his legs. "Because nights with just your shiny briefcase and your shiny toys must be lonely."

Seth grabs Dean's hand in his own now, stopping it, but he doesn't push him away, just keeps them both there, lingering on his waist, right above where his tight jeans are starting to bulge a little.

"This isn't a… _thing_. It's just… I just _need_ …" Seth says, sounding desperate, squeezing his hand closer to his body. He glances up for just a second into Dean's eyes and he has this soft, yearning look on his face but it's gone as soon as he looks away again. 

"Sure, whatever it takes for you to sleep at night, man." He has a sneaking suspicion that it probably takes a similar cocktail of prescription drugs and booze to knock Seth out good enough to stop his demons chasing him down all the endless, nightmarish corridors of his unguarded mind. 

Seth drops his hand now and slowly moves away again but only to shrug his jacket off and let it fall to the floor in one motion. He takes a breath and then hastily rids himself of the rest of his clothes, tugs his shirt over his head, kicks his shoes off carelessly, yanks his jeans off his legs, making a small pile at the foot of the bed.

Dean grabs him by the hips boldly and reels him in and hooks his fingers into the waistband of his underwear and pulls them down and off as Seth steps out of them. And Seth just lets him manhandle him, strip him naked without any awkwardness or fuss, like his body's meant to be touched like this by Dean. He stands there in front of him, fully unclothed, miles of tan skin and taut muscle in full view, dick already half-hard against his hip from the barest contact, but lacking any of the self-consciousness from before.

Then Dean catches sight of the briefcase again in his periphery and he walks over and grabs it and opens it and pulls the toy out. It's flesh-coloured and girthy and pretty long and thinking about Seth riding it had definitely got him going. He'd even used it on the doll a couple times just to get a better picture. Put it on the highest setting and just let it go, enjoyed the show.

Seth looks at him, confused, when he returns with it clutched in his hands.

"I thought you were gonna..." he says, eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah, have some patience, okay? Need to get you ready first," he says, voice soft and reassuring.

Seth looks down at the vibrator in Dean's grip. "Did you use it?" he asks curiously.

"Nah, not really my style. Plus, who knows where that thing's been," he says with a smirk.

"Asshole," Seth says, rolling his eyes but his lips quirk slightly.

"Yeah," Dean concedes. "Now get on the bed. Lie on your stomach. Trust me."

Seth laughs a bit deliriously. "Sure," he says, like he also thinks it's fucking crazy that he can't trust Dean to not appear out of the shadows and try to crack his skull open on any given day but somehow he _does_ trust him right now.

He slowly clambers onto the edge of the bed, on his hands and knees, and then lowers himself onto the centre of the mattress, face-down. He lets his legs fall apart slightly, body pliant and relaxed. 

Then he turns his head and locks eyes with the doll doppelganger next to him. "This thing is creepy as fuck, you know," he mutters at Dean.

"Nah, it's not _that_ that gives me nightmares," Dean assures him.

Dean grabs the bottle of lube from the nightstand and sets it down right on the end of the bed next to the vibrator. And then he slides on to the bed next to Seth in turn, before shifting over so he's settled in between his legs.

He positions himself right above his ass, gently spreads his cheeks apart with his fingers to expose his hole. He leans down and presses his mouth against his opening, breathing warm air against his sensitive skin and nerve-endings, and he feels his body twitching under him at the contact. And then he lets his tongue slip out to lick slowly around the rim and then press inside tentatively like it's waiting for an invitation. Seth swears and presses his hips down into the bed and his hole flutters open and contracts against his tongue beautifully. Like he wants, _needs_ something inside him so badly.

He licks at him, slow and careful and deliberate, until he can tell Seth's fully hard and he's squirming under him, desperately seeking some kind of friction to alleviate the burning pressure.

Dean reaches out with both hands and clasps them tightly around Seth's wrists that are lying at his sides. 

"Don't touch yourself, okay?" he warns. "Or I'm gonna tie your hands behind your back."

Seth turns to look at him and nods, his eyes squeezing shut tightly. His face is flushed deep red and contorted in agonising need and desperation and he looks a wreck already, hair messy and falling into his face, lips bitten raw, skin covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

Dean slowly removes his hands from Seth's wrists and then removes his mouth from his hole that's similarly flushed and Seth makes a disappointed whine in his throat. But he doesn't make him wait too long, reaching for the lube and slicking his fingers up generously. Seth's hole is greedy and eager, twitching with want for more, but it's gonna take a bit of work still to get him to take what he wants him to take.

He runs his fingers along the inside of his rim and then slowly pushes one in, feeling him give around him and take him in nicely. Then he adds another, scissoring them inside him, feeling him stretch and then constrict around him and his dick jumps a little against his stomach, thinking about sinking deep into Seth's tight heat, so different from the doll's plastic mechanisms. He adds a third and then a fourth and slides them in and out in a steady rhythm until he settles around them like he was made to be this full.

He reaches for the dildo now, coats it in enough lube, and replaces his fingers with it. He puts just the head inside him first, stretching open his rim, gently rotating it to graze against his inner walls. He turns it on to the lowest setting, and pushes it in slightly deeper, and Seth's hips rise up off the mattress unconsciously like he wants more. So that's exactly what he gives him. He's gonna have to be patient though.

He incrementally speeds up the vibrations as he pushes it deeper and deeper inside him and Seth's gasping for breath, fists clenched in the sheets, body twisting from side to side uncontrollably under him as he jerks his hips up, but he's taking it so good, like the vibrations triggering all his nerve cells are loosening him up even more and turning him into a helpless, wanton mess.

He finally plunges the vibrator in as deep as it can go until it hits his prostate and he slaps him sharply on his ass cheek at the same time and he cries out in a mix of pain and pleasure and something about that makes the blood pump harder all through Dean's body. He can't resist reaching down and touching himself, feeling how stiff and achingly hard he is. But that'll come later. He feels almost drunk on it, knowing he has Seth utterly at his mercy, that he can do anything to him and he'll probably let him, he'll probably enjoy it. 

"Oh, you like that, huh? Makes you feel like you're getting what you deserve?" he says mockingly.

He does it again, smacks him hard right across his ass with the centre of his palm, with more force and intention this time.

"You're such a fucking asshole," Seth grits out into the sheets but the way his hips are writhing and rutting into the mattress says otherwise. 

"And you're a kinky little bitch," he says, almost impressed. "But that's okay."

He strokes his fingers gently over the angry red mark already blooming on the curve of his ass. It's definitely more satisfying seeing the effects on real, tender skin and flesh than punishing plastic that can't bruise. 

He takes the toy all the way out and puts it on the highest setting and then he drives it all the way in, faster this time, aiming right against his prostate again, then turns it off when Seth's right on the edge and begging to come. And then he pulls it out and does it again while Seth's screaming at him _please please please_ , hips lifted high off the bed to try to keep it inside. And then he shoves it in one last time and takes his hand off the buttons completely and lets him completely lose it with the vibrator on the fastest speed wrecking his insides.

His hips just stop moving completely for a moment, ass in the air, like time's frozen, his mouth open in a silent, shuddering gasp, and then he comes in messy stripes all over the white sheets and then his entire body just crumples heavily onto his front with a relieved sigh.

He rolls over onto his back as the toy slips out of him, limbs splayed out uselessly around him. "Oh my god," he exclaims like he's just had a transcendent experience, eyes wide and dark and going out of focus.

Dean wonders if he's broken him and now he's gonna be stuck with _two_ immobile, braindead Seth Rollins, which might be more of a pain than he would've imagined.

He laughs. "I guess that's not how you fuck yourself when you're alone?" he asks.

Seth just lies there panting at the ceiling, chest heaving, before he shakes his head and says, "No, definitely not."

Dean gets off the bed and leaves him there for a moment as Seth gradually seems to regain normal function of his body. He grabs a bottle of water and takes a small sip before tossing it at Seth. Seth just catches it and looks at it for a second before setting it down on the nightstand next to him. And then he eases himself upright and shifts his body down the length of the mattress until he's sitting at the end of the bed, legs dangling off the side. He beckons to Dean from where he's standing in the middle of the room. "Come here," he says, voice raw and urgent. 

Dean slowly walks over to him until he's standing right in between his legs and Seth tips his head back and looks up at him intently and then he's reaching out towards him and closing his fingers around Dean's hard dick, tugging gently a few times to relieve some of the tension. Dean closes his eyes and exhales slowly, head thrown back. And then Seth slides off the bed and onto his knees on the floor in front of him.

He wraps his mouth around Dean's dick eagerly, lapping at the head with his tongue like he's hungry for it. He holds the base of his dick firmly in his hand and hollows his cheeks out, bobs his head up and down in an even rhythm, tongue sliding over his length, wet and hot.

He pulls off after a few moments to breathe, one hand still stroking him, wipes spit and precum off of his mouth with the back of the other. He grins up at him, looking pleased with himself, tongue pressed against the inside of his upper lip. "I bet your expensive, custom doll can't do that."

"Asshole," Dean mutters and then he grabs him by a handful of hair and pushes his mouth back down on his dick and fucks his mouth quickly and steadily, keeping his head in place with a firm hand at the base of his skull. He can feel when he hits the back of his throat every time, and Seth just breathes through his nose instead and takes it and _takes it_ without any resistance like he likes being used like this. Like every muscle in his body is now relaxed and yielding and willing to give and to please and be pleased. Seth's mouth is probably way more skilled at this than his plastic counterpart and feeling how much he wants this, how he came apart under his tongue and his hands, is indescribably better, but maybe it's not that different, really. Seth wants Dean to treat him the same way. Maybe he knows he deserves it even if it doesn't change anything.

When he feels he's close, Dean lets go of his hair and pulls out of Seth's mouth, strokes himself off a few times, the leftover saliva and lube helping matters along smoothly and then he's coming all over Seth's face. And he doesn't protest, just like he knew he wouldn't. He wants it. Wants all of it. And he's come all over the doll before but Seth blinking up at him and licking his lips, come clumped in his eyelashes and leaking out of his beard and sticking his hair to his forehead, is something else entirely.

Dean grabs a handful of tissues and offers some to Seth while he wipes his own hands off. Seth wipes his face thoroughly and then collapses back on the bed, on his back. This time he reaches out and touches the doll's smooth, waxy cheek with his fingertip, soft and delicate, a strange look on his face as he carefully traces its features with his eyes, like he's seeing someone else, maybe who he used to be, sometime long ago when he was younger and innocent, while Dean watches. "This is so weird. The eyes are just like mine. It's like looking in a mirror. Only 3D."

Dean sinks down on the edge of the bed, still watching him. He nods. "Yeah. Except it doesn't lie to me while looking at me the way you used to."

Seth doesn't say anything, like he knows it's no use. Dean doesn't want to hear anything he has to say. Everything that comes out of his mouth these days is a lie or just makes things even worse. That's why he got a fucking inanimate replica of Seth that can't talk or run away or leave him. Instead, Seth just crawls across the bed slowly until he's right in front of Dean and he curls a hand around his jaw and pulls him into a hard kiss.

Dean fits his palms around the curves of his bare shoulder blades, nails sinking into his skin, and hauls him in closer, crushing them together as they kiss, breathless and bruising, like they're trying to unmake each other, the way they do when they collide in the ring, or like they're trying to put pieces back together that are never going to stay aligned no matter how hard they try.

"Was that okay?" Seth says when they break apart for air, looking at him with concerned, almost nervous eyes for the first time since he took his clothes off.

"Yeah. _Fuck_ ," he says before they kiss again. Dean tangles his hands in Seth's hair, pulling less roughly than he would if he wasn't real, and licks into his mouth, hot and dirty, tasting himself on his tongue.

He can feel his dick starting to stir again and he reaches down between them, fingers skimming over his abs and then lower, where he finds Seth's responding just the same.

Seth moans against his lips and then attaches his mouth to his neck instead, grazing his teeth over veins and tendons and then he flicks his tongue over his pulse point, bites a rough kiss into his flesh, like he wants to capture the furious thrumming of his warm blood in his mouth. Like he wants to remember what being _alive_ is like again.

"Show me," Seth says, voice low, breath hot on his neck, hands splayed across his chest. 

"What?" Dean says, feeling dizzy from the closeness, the taste of Seth's mouth mixed with his own salty bitterness, the heady smell of sex and sweat already between them, the thick, liquid heat pooling in his gut.

"Show me what you do to it," Seth says, looking up at him, eyes shining with naked desire and he has no idea how the fuck he ever confused them with synthetic parts made in a factory.

Dean puts his hands on his shoulders and guides him off the bed and gently presses him down onto his knees on the carpet, facing the foot of the bed. Then he walks around him and stands behind him and nudges him forward with his hands on his spine until his torso's bent over the bed, his cheek smushed into the mattress and his ass at waist height, so he can line up and slowly push inside him inch by inch.

Dean's not quite as big as the dildo but he isn't far off so Seth takes him easily now but he's also still pleasantly snug around him. Seth lets out a loud gasp when he bottoms out. It feels like he almost goes completely boneless against him, like he can barely keep his body upright anymore, knees and legs going weak from underneath him.

Dean clenches one hand around Seth's hip for leverage, his body pinned between Dean's and the bed, as he spreads his legs further apart with his knee to find the best angle. He fucks him deep and hard, pulling small moans out of his throat with each graze against his prostate. His hands are at his sides, grasping at the sheets and the only friction his dick's enjoying is being ground into the edge of the mattress with each movement of Dean's hips.

Dean grips his other hand into his hair tightly, winds his sweaty curls around his knuckles, and pulls firmly until his back arches up off of the mattress and a keening sound is torn from deep in his chest.

His body seems to regain its strength as he grows accustomed to the feel of Dean inside him, legs planted firmly into the floor, and he's responding enthusiastically now as he rocks his hips backwards onto his dick, arms braced on the bed, to take Dean in even impossibly deeper with each thrust.

He finally reaches down between his legs and takes himself in his hands, stroking his bright red, throbbing dick with each of Dean's thunderous thrusts and he's leaking profusely and Dean knows they're both close.

Dean lets go of his hair and reaches for more lube, pours it messily onto his hand as he keeps moving his hips, and then slides his fingers in next to his dick and feels Seth stretch around him even more than he thought possible. He withdraws his fingers and pulls his dick out about halfway and then he slowly slides the vibrator alongside him instead and turns it on — and he pushes them both deep inside with one sudden, powerful thrust. And then they're both coming more intensely than they ever have in their lives. Seth clenches around him and the toy hard and then he's spilling into his hand with a guttural yell he can't hold back. Dean almost blacks out from the focused tremors right next to his dick, the head of the vibrator brushing against his own and Seth squeezing them so tightly together inside him, and he unloads thick and heavy inside Seth's gaping, ruined hole. He turns the vibrator off and pulls it out and then himself and stumbles backwards a little, legs shaking, as Seth's body goes limp again without Dean to keep him upright.

Seth falls face-first onto the bed and Dean finally gives into gravity and slumps forward on top of him and they just stay there in a sweaty, exhausted heap of heavy limbs, Dean breathing into the soft, warm skin of his back until they can recover some small fraction of their brain processes to disentangle their bodies again and clean themselves up.

Eventually, he settles down on his back in the middle of the bed and Seth tucks his body against his side, like he can't help it, like Dean's body is his new addiction, like he might die if he stops touching him or at least become that numb, empty shell again, looking and feeling human but with nothing inside. He rests one hand on his stomach and presses his face into Dean's shoulder. He can feel him smiling against his skin. He finally turns his head to look at him. It's not anything like the derisive sneer that's usually plastered on his face these days, sharp and icy and bloodless, like he painted it on, like a barrier to keep everyone far away. This one is real, genuine, with a warmth that reaches his eyes and turns them back to a shade of brown he'd memorised and never thought he'd ever see again. He almost looks like someone he used to know, someone he thought was just a lie. But _this_ is the real lie, who Seth is now, who he claims to be in front of the world, even more fake and plastic than the doll lying on his other side. He's gonna turn right back into that soulless bastard before his eyes, he knows, and it'll hurt as much as the first time he left, but he just wants to cling onto this blissful dream for as long as he can. 

Dean just gazes at him for a while and Seth gazes back and then he reaches up and gently brushes some of Dean's sweaty hair off of his forehead. He says, almost like he's in some kind of haze and maybe Dean's really just imagining this now, "Glad you have someone to take care of you, someone better than me," before they both succumb to the exhaustion and drift off into unconsciousness together, no drugs required this time. 

*

They've both taken showers and Seth's put his clothes back on and Dean's just sitting there in clean sweatpants watching him leave. Again. 

"Don't you want your briefcase?" he asks. He'd packed all of its contents back neatly into the beat-up golden case, freshly cleaned and good as new. "You probably might need to change the batteries soon though —" 

Seth just shrugs. "I'll take it back when I'm ready. You can have your fun in the meantime."

"Oh, you better be ready," Dean teases.

Seth fixes the collar of his jacket and then takes a deep breath and looks him right in the eye.

"I know I don't have to say this, but if you tell anyone about this —"

"You're gonna what? Gonna send some of your goons to put my head through concrete again? Didn't really work out that well for you last time," he tells him almost apologetically. "I'm not scared of you, Seth. Maybe that's what gets you off, I don't know. That's your business. Just like this isn't anyone else's business. And who am I gonna tell anyway, right?" He gives him an ironic smile.

"Yeah, right, you don't have any friends. Except for, you know — _him_ ," Seth says, eyes casting around uncomfortably, like he's trying to avoid eye contact with the sex doll, as if just putting his clothes back on has suddenly restored all his inhibitions. Like he didn't just practically beg Dean to fuck him within an inch of his life right in front of that same doll. And that's ridiculous and it's almost kind of adorable and Dean's wondering if having an actual orgasm or two with a real human being for a change has made him actually fucking crazy like everyone already thinks.

Before he can swallow the words back down, they spill out of his lips. "You know, if you wanna come visit us again, my door is always open. Or you know, asking to be kicked down by a stark raving madman."

"Maybe I can have a turn with your 'friend' sometime," Seth says, deadpan.

"I always knew you would fuck yourself if you could, you narcissistic fuck," Dean says, shaking his head incredulously while unsuccessfully trying to hide how fucking hot he actually thinks that would be.

"Like _you_ wouldn't. Just think of the image as a gift for your spank bank," Seth says with a wink.

"You could've just called, you know," he says offhandedly. "That's how normal people do things. That's why it's a booty call. Not a booty break-my-fucking-door-down. You don't have to be such a dramatic bitch all the time."

"I assumed you blocked my number," Seth says, and he almost sounds sad about it.

"Maybe I might unblock it sometime. If I feel like it," Dean tells him simply.

"Maybe I'll text you sometime then. If I feel like it," Seth says aloofly.

"Maybe," Dean agrees. "Now you need to get the fuck out of here. Before I decide to kick your ass for destroying my hotel room and waking me up so rudely. And I'll be expecting a check for the damages."

"Fuck you," Seth says with a shit-eating grin that comes a little bit too close to fond for comfort.

Seth leaves and Dean closes the door behind him the best he can manage and then he falls backwards onto the bed with a long sigh. When he turns his head, Scumbag II is staring back at him with an eerie look in its lifeless, brown eyes that almost says, _I told you so._

Yeah, the sex doll is definitely not even close to the weirdest, most fucked-up part of his life.


End file.
